Page 41 of I Was Born Ruined (Death by Daybreak MC 1)
But I’m not a coward.
So even though I know I don’t deserve her friendship, I roll over to face her. There are huge bags under her eyes, and a smile on her face that doesn’t reach them. She’s looking down at my blanket and not at my face. I don’t blame her; I wouldn’t want to look at me either.
In this one instance: the club, my father, Grainger … they’re right.
What I did was irresponsible. What happened was my fault.
“Morning,” I say, but the word barely escapes my lips. It’s like the flutter of a butterfly’s wing, almost too soft to hear. Reba toys with the pearl necklace she’s wearing over her black cardigan, but it’s too somber of an occasion to make any inappropriate jokes about it.
Glancing up, I find Sin standing in my doorway instead, his back to us. I know he’s listening though. Of course he is.
“What happened last night, suge? We have one camper in the hospital, one missing, and a dozen girls who say they say they saw that same girl get shot. The police are telling us it was a random act of violence from a jealous boyfriend. But why does that smell like a pile o’ turds to me?”
I sit up, taking note of the fact that Fem is still missing.
If he killed my dog, I’ll kill him.
Well, I’d try anyway. Cat would gun me down in cold-blood before I could even take a shot at him, that much is a fun fact of life.
“Grey Wolfe Mafia,” I whisper, feeling like I might just throw up. As I adjust myself on the bed, I can feel the sore spot between my thighs. It’s almost uncomfortable enough to make me want to pop a few pain killers. I pick at a loose thread on my black comforter with my chipped fingernail polish.
“Goddamn it, Gidget,” Sin snaps, turning to look over his shoulder, silver eyes flashing with frustration. “Keep your damn mouth shut.”
I don’t acknowledge him or the blue faux hawk he’s been sporting recently. He’s taken mad shit from the club for it, so it’s not even worth my time to tell him that I … like it. He stands out from the other men with their beards, and their brown, black, and blonde hair.
Doesn’t make him any less of a prick.
Reba looks his way, studies the missing door and then redirects her attention over to the bathroom.
“That just ain’t right,” she mutters, but she reaches out and pulls me into a hug anyway. Why she’s friends with me, I really don’t know. If I were her, I’d run as far and fast as I could get and never look back. Being my friend comes with a lot of strings—none of them good. I need her to leave and never speak to me again because if the Grey Wolfe Mafia thinks killing her will get them closer to me, they’ll do it. “A lady needs privacy in the powder room.”
“Please just say bathroom,” I whisper, but I almost smile, pushing dark hair back behind my ears and trying really hard not to think about Grainger. It’s not as hard as it should be with Sin standing so close. After all, I fucked him once, too. I could think about that, how his was the first dick I ever took between my lips, smearing red lipstick across his pierced shaft …
“Gidget, are you okay?” Reba asks again, focusing her green eyes on mine. Her makeup is so perfect, so exact, but subtle, too. Her dark clothes however suggest a somber mood that’s matched by the pouring rain outside. It’s the Sunday just after Labor Day, and the world is a violent mess, a puzzle that I can’t quite figure out. “I don’t need to know the details of what happened last night, but should I be worried about you?”
“No.” Sin isn’t looking at us, but he thinks he has a right to participate in the conversation. I can see how tight his back is though, the fabric of his cut pulled taut over his shoulders. “Gidge will be just fine. You’d be better off if you left the questions alone though.”
“Are you threatenin’ me?” Reba asks in total outrage. She literally clutches her pearls and stands up, confident that with God on her side, she can take on anything. I don’t ever want her to learn otherwise, that sometimes, no matter how much back-up you think you have, the devil can find a way in. “Because I do not take kindly to threats, and I really don’t appreciate eavesdroppers. If I had something to say to you, then sir, you bet your buns, I would say it.”
Sin doesn’t turn around, but the creak of the stairs signals a newcomer making their way into this little conversation.
